


memento (mori)

by m1masr00m



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: Anxiety, Character Death, Heavy Angst, M/M, PTSD, why do i love to put this child through hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 12:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12653445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m1masr00m/pseuds/m1masr00m
Summary: With the broadcast of the second killing game comes the moment Ryota Mitarai surrenders to a despair more powerful than any brainwashing video.





	memento (mori)

Ryota’s head is spinning. The voices around him overlap and run into each other, blurring together into a cacophonous hum that burrows further and further into his brain like a parasite.

‘Komaeda has done bad things in the past, but I know he wouldn’t go as far as to murder!’

It’s Chisa Yukizome. Her voice carries a twinge of desperation, of fear.

‘Then why did we see him in the old building preparing his crime? Try and explain that, sugar.’

Andou’s saccharine voice is too piercing today. The hammering ache in his skull intensifies and he takes a shaky drink of water from his glass.

_Hold it together._

‘Not to mention he was discussing his plans with the little guy, the uh, the Ultimate Cook _._ Are you all dense?’

Juzo Sakakura. The man intimidates Ryota to no end.

‘Sakakura, losing our minds over speculation will get us nowhere.’

‘Are you a fuckin’ idiot, Gozu?! How long do you wanna give this little shit the benefit of the doubt?!’

‘Lower your fists!’

‘I-If we don’t intervene it’ll be one more life lost! You know what they say, “the little girl who covers her pigtails can’t-“’

‘ **And how do you suggest we intervene, Bandai?** _’_

The Chairman’s voice silences the room. Under the table, Ryota tears at a hangnail, curling his fingers at the wave of pulsing pain in his finger that follows. Tengan pauses and interlocks skeletal fingers under his chin.

‘At this point the Enoshima Virus has complete control of the program. Our team, led by Miaya Gekkogahara, is working hard on breaking down its firewalls but, until they do, we have no choice but to observe and discuss possible plans of action.’

On the screens before them, the party is just about to begin. The branch leaders around the table each look tense. Suddenly, the smooth surface of the table shakes, and Ryota clumsily seizes his glass of water before it can spill. Looking to his left, he realises Sakakura has slammed a powerful fist onto the table.

‘Observing? That’s exactly want the Remnants fucking want!’

‘These _are_ the Remnants, you dunce,’ Andou hisses, slipping another candy into Izayoi’s mouth. ‘Uploading Enoshima’s AI to the Neo World Program was their plan from the get-go. Why should we feel so obliged to help them anyway?’

Munakata doesn’t say a word, but nods subtly. Every branch leader understands his position on the Despairs far too well.

  _It’s not their fault. They…_

_The Despairs weren’t in control of their actions!_

He feels blood from his hangnail start to collect in a wet puddle around his nail, and wraps the palm of his other hand around the damage. It’s the best he can do at the moment, and is better than getting blood on his suit pants. The conversation in the boardroom begins to build once more, with one side of the table debating the fate of the Despairs and the other commenting on the events on the big screen. Since the second killing game began, since every screen in the Foundation’s headquarters suddenly illuminated with that malevolent scarlet eye and Monokuma’s childlike, murderous voice filled the halls, mandatory branch head meetings have become a daily occurrence. Ryota is sure that Tengan has a plan because he always does, yet it seems that all they do in these meetings is talk in circles and argue with each other. What is he hoping will be achieved?

‘…sending that note to the Ultimate Imposter was Komaeda’s way of rallying the group together…that’s how he’ll carry out his murder…’

The Ultimate Imposter.

Ryota’s chest tightened at the name. That name that really said nothing about who Sagishi was, yet at the same time meant _so much_ to the animator. A title that allowed the imposter to remain fully anonymous, yet carried with it the suffocating weight of the man’s lonely existence.

_While they were in each other’s arms, Ryota’s own loneliness seemed to just…melt away. Did Sagishi ever feel the same way?_

More importantly, are Sagishi’s feelings of isolation the reason why he hasn’t yet told the others about the note? Why else is he keeping the threat to himself? _He’s putting himself in danger._ Ryota presses his teeth together in his mouth, digging chewed nails into clammy palms, pouring every drop of energy into hiding his distress. Sagishi always did love to take care of people, to put others first. His Byakuya Togami persona may not properly convey that quality, but Ryota can see it clear as day. He remembers it all too clearly. He’s attempting to shoulder the burden of protecting the entire class by declaring himself their leader. He doesn’t even register the fact that he’s worth protecting too.

_None of this would be happening…if it wasn’t for **you**._

_My cute little otaku~_

It’s that voice again.

Enoshima often talks to him in his head, her voice echoing between his ears, gnawing at the back of his eyes, absolutely begging him to pay attention to the same phrases repeated over and over.

Sometimes it feels like she’s become a part of him. She’s long dead, yet it’s hard to recall what life felt like without her whispering in his ear, scraping her sharp nails down his back.

On the screens, Sagishi is thoroughly patting down the islanders one by one, even the girls. Ryota almost allows himself to breathe, to accept that everything will be okay because Sagishi is being so careful, because Sagishi is there to protect his friends. Yet everyone saw earlier how Komaeda crawled under the table with a knife and glowing paint in hand, yet returned without them. Everyone saw him tell Hanamura about his desire to start the killing game.

_There’s no doubt. There’s no doubt that he wants to kill._

_Yukizome and Gozu can be in denial all they want, but anyone with eyes can see what’s going on here._

_This party is a trap, Sagishi! This is part of his plan!_

_Get out, call it off now!_

‘Hey kiddo, you not feelin’ well or something?’

Ryota takes a second to remove himself from his frenzied thoughts and jerks his head in the direction of the voice. It’s Kizakura, who’s sat next to him. The man has remained mostly quiet the entire time they’ve been gathered, instead taking too-frequent glugs from his metal flask. His eyes appear glassy, his nose slightly rosy.

‘Wh-what?’ is all the animator can force out.

‘’M just sayin’, you look like you’re about to topple over.’

_But he’s sat down…_

‘No, I’m…I’m okay…I’m j-just-‘

There’s a stab of pain from the region behind his eyes where his headache is centred, and it takes everything he has not to physically wince. He’s suddenly aware of how the palm of his hand has become damp and sticky from the blood flowing from his finger, and quickly unclenches it. His suit feels heavy on his shoulders, his tie almost throttling him. Meanwhile, the constant chatter around the table only seems to be getting louder.

‘…I’m just…I’m just concerned about what K-Komaeda will do is all.’

Kizakura clutches the brim of his fedora with one hand and uses his thumb to stroke the cool metal of his flask with another. His eyes are dark, his face humourless.

‘Ya know, back when I taught ‘im, Nagito Komaeda seemed like such a sweet kid. A weird kid, but a good kid.’ His words are slurred, more than Ryota noticed at first. ‘Of course there was that whole drama with him blowin’ up the gym or somethin’, yadah yadah, but still…I wanna trust him.’

Ryota blinks, his heart hammering in his chest, a lump lodged in his throat. He simply nods, not attempting to speak, not attempting to offer reassurance or validation, because he’s unable believe in what the former teacher is saying. He prays that Kizakura can’t see through him.

‘But ya know…that’s just what I think, ‘nd I know I’m looking at it through rose tinted lenses…’ Then why does he sound so defeated? ‘All we can really do is wa-‘

‘The lights have gone out in there!’

Kimura’s voice cuts through the chatter. She’s holding her surgical mask off her face with a trembling, gloved finger. Ryota turns his attention to the screens, and, sure enough, the light source in the old building must have shut off, leaving the room in inky darkness. The only way to tell that the monitors are still switched on is the sound of the 77th class reacting in surprise to the sudden power outage.

“I-it’s a blackout!” exclaims one.

“Turn the damn lights on! I can’t eat like this ya know!” comes another.

Ryota instinctively surges to his feet, knocking the underside of the table with his knees in the process, before the nauseating realisation hits that, whatever’s going on in the simulation, there is nothing he can do about it. _They’re in there, he’s out here._ He plants a hand onto the table, attempting to ground himself, attempting to breathe.

_It’s okay. It’s just a blackout._

_Sagishi’s…Sagishi’s fine. He’s here to protect them all. They’re all going to be fine._

_But then…_

_What is this feeling in the pit of his stomach? Why does it feel like the walls are closing in?_

At that moment, a hand wraps around his elbow from behind.

‘Kid…you gotta calm down, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.’

It’s Kizakura’s gravelly voice. Ryota takes a second to realise that a few of the others are looking at him. Andou is wrinkling her nose at him judgementally, arms crossed over her chest. Tengan is just…

staring. Staring through cold, black eyes, his hands still meshed together under his chin. The look is not malicious, not threatening, not concerned. Nothing. Yet, there is no doubt that the chairman is staring at him. Ryota finds himself almost petrified by his gaze, unable to feel his feet on the ground for a few seconds. Thousands of thoughts rushing through his head at once, he somehow lowers himself back onto his seat, swallowing thickly, tapping his fingers onto the luminous table.

_Hold…hold it together._

_You’ve made it this far. You just completely embarrassed yourself, but it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Face it later. For now, focus. Just try…try and focus._

At this moment, the screens illuminate once more. The yellow light of the old building’s chandelier floods the virtual room, and the 77th class flicker back into view, each one looking more disorientated than the last.

_But…_

_Something’s wrong..._

‘So it was just a power outage?’ comes the piercing squeak of Bandai’s voice.

‘That clumsy nurse chick totally fell down!’

_No…not that. Tsumiki’s always falling down._

‘Hold on…’ says Munakata.

So he’s noticed as well?

Ryota’s throat has dried up, panicked waves of heat washing over his face and shoulders, that black, sticky feeling of dread crawling its way from his stomach to his chest, from his chest all the way down to his feet. It’s consuming him. It’s drowning him. He becomes hyper-aware of an itchiness behind his ear, of the throbbing hangnail on his left index finger, of the shirt material around his arms and chest and stomach, how it feels against his goosefleshed skin. 

_Where is he?! Where's Sagishi?!_

‘T-t-togami’s not…Togami’s not there!’

His voice tears from his throat before his brain has understood that he’s said anything. Suddenly, all eyes are on him.

_Stop looking. STOP LOOKING AT ME!_

_Sagishi’s gone!_

‘Jeez, he’s right, that lardo’s not there.’

That’s Sakakura.

_Don’t…don’t **fucking** call him that._

_Sagishi…this is a joke, right? You’re safe…right?_ Glancing at the active live feeds from every area in the virtual Jabberwock, Sagishi’s nowhere to be seen. Ryota lifts a hand to wipe at his forehead, but ends up planting it straight into his mop of hair, nails scraping into his scalp, fingers catching on knots and tangles.

_Where’s he gone? Sagishi, WHERE ARE YOU?_

‘He’s literally…disappeared.’ Kimura mutters, her narrowed lilac eyes scanning the screens just as Ryota’s had been.

He’s feeling increasingly nauseous, a sense of malaise that goes beyond the effects of his insomnia, beyond the aching emptiness in his stomach due to having missed lunch. The students in the old building have noticed Sagishi’s absence. They have no explanation for it either. They’ve begun searching the building for him.

_This is getting worse and worse!_

‘Kyosuke? Is it possible that Togami found a way out of the simulation? I mean, maybe that’s why we can’t see him.’

The suggestion echoes in Ryota’s mind. _Yes! Maybe he…maybe he just left the Neo World Program somehow, maybe it was down to a glitch or something, maybe he’s safe!_

‘U-um…’ he speaks up against his better judgement. ‘Yukizome’s…Yukizome’s right, it’s not possible for him to have just…v-vanished off the map for no reason, right? Maybe he did find a way out…’

His contribution seems to go relatively unnoticed amidst the general din. However, Tengan’s eyes meet his from across the room. The older man merely nods, smiling reassuringly, despite the coldness behind his gaze.

_See? Tengan agrees, Sagishi’s going to be fine!_

_He’s going to be…_

_Fine…_

Ryota’s dizzy, the lights overhead swimming together for a few seconds before he forces them back into focus. This is too much for him right now. The noise. The uncertainty. The heat in the boardroom. The _people_. All the branch heads who seem to be judging his every word, his every movement, who likely only see him as a timid little child who barely escaped the plague of despair.

He’s lucky. They’re lucky. Because that is all he is to them. Because not a single one of them knows the truth. The truth that he sowed the seeds of despair with his own two stained, bloody hands. They don’t know that he can’t look at himself in the mirror anymore, that he can barely eat or sleep, because countless lives are still being lost to Ultimate Despair, and that burden rests solely on him. Too often, it’s enough to make him want to end his life. He hates himself that he’s too damn scared to do so.

_All of this…all of this was because he was **too fucking scared.**_

‘Want some?’

Suddenly something cold and hard is pushed against his cheek. He’s torn from his thoughts and turns once more to the older man sat next to him.

‘K-kizakura…’

The dishevelled former teacher is clumsily holding out his metal flask, his arm wobbly as he offers it to Ryota. The animator furrows his eyebrows.

‘E-er…does the Chairman mind that you…drink during meetings?’

Kizakura snorts, his eyes glassy. ‘C’mon kid, we’re all adults. Even you, technically...wait, you are, right?’

Ryota folds his arms defensively. ‘I-I’m 20…’

He doesn’t look _that_ young…

‘Right, right, whatever, point is…with the way the world is now, we all need a little somethin’ to get us through each day, ya know?’

Yes. Ryota knows all too well how that feels. Except, for him, absolutely _nothing_ seems to numb the oppressive weight of guilt and anxiety constantly clinging to his back. Unlike Kizakura, Ryota is single-handedly responsible for the dire state of the world. There is nothing that can take away that pain.

‘Right…w-well, thanks but no thanks…never m-much liked the taste of alcohol…makes me feel kinda sick…’

He already feels sick.

Kizakura pauses, his lips forming an awkward half-smile that carries just a hint of friendly condescension. ‘Pfft…fair enough. You really are a kid.’

‘Mm hm…’ he hums vacantly. He’s too tired to argue, not that he’s all that offended by the statement anyway. However, when he looks back at Kizakura, his eyes are widened, his focus seemingly diverted away from the conversation entirely. Ryota swivels his chair to face the live feed, where the students are gathering around the long table nearest to the back wall. His stomach drops. The chatter in the room is getting louder.

‘What did she say? Did…did Owari say she smells blood?!’ Yukizome exclaims, standing up in her chair, one hand clutching at Munakata’s arm.

_No._

**_No._ **

_This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This is a nightmare._

Ryota’s going to be sick. _Blood? Did…did Yukizome say blood?_

_And Sagishi’s still missing._

'Honey, are you thinking what I'm thinking?' purrs Andou to Izayoi.

'That the fat guy's under the table?'

_Oh god._

'How the hell could he be under the table?! That's not possible!'

_Oh god, oh god, oh god._

'Well, technically it _is_ possible Sakakura. Jeez, you're such a meathead...'

_Sagishi. Sagishi, please be okay, please let them be wrong!_

'Are you...saying that the killing game has begun?'

_Shut up. **SHUT UP!'**_

Ryota's breathing is becoming more and more unsteady; something’s under that table and the students in the simulation all know it. As the seconds tick by, all Ryota can do is drum his nails against the table, droplets of sweat trickling down the back of his neck. Aware of just about nothing else, his eyes lock to the screens as Hinata, or, as he knew him, Kamukura, slowly bends over and peels away the off-white sheet.

.

Time stops.                                   

Ryota hears nothing. It’s as if he’s been thrown into a never-ending chasm of clear, empty water. The entire room around him ceases to exist for what feels like an eternity.

And then he sees it. And he sees it again. And again. And again, and again, and again.

Sagishi. The Ultimate Imposter. “Byakuya Togami”. His bulky body is pressed flat against the floor of the dining room, sandy blond hair shielding his face, arms stretched out in front of him as if he’s…reaching forward. Except

He’s not.

Sagishi is lifeless. Sagishi isn’t moving.

And his body is soaking in a pool of red.

Red that overwhelms every one of Ryota’s senses at once. It’s everywhere. It surrounds Sagishi’s body, it coats the front of his cream suit and forms a gruesome splatter on the underside of the tablecloth. It’s drying against his knuckles and gluing clumps of hair together.

He’s…so, so pale.

When was Sagishi ever so pale?

Sagishi was always…healthy. Full of life. He could embody another identity with little more than a glance or a wave of his hand. And then, behind closed doors, he was Ryota’s best friend. He was Ryota’s lover.

The man on the screen isn’t Sagishi.

The man on the screen isn’t anybody.

Noise rushes back to Ryota’s ears. Yukizome is sobbing. Gozu is shouting. Sakakura pounds his fist on the table.

And the animator is physically shaking. There are tears spilling from his eyes before he’s fully processed the sight before him.

Sagishi is…

_Sagishi’s dead._

His arms wrap around his chest, nails piercing the material of his suit. He’s vaguely aware of Kizakura’s hand clumsily reaching out towards him. There’s not enough space in his head to allow for a reaction.

_Sagishi was murdered._

**_Sagishi was murdered because of him!_ **

_Sagishi’s dead. Sagishi’s dead Sagishi’s dead Sagishi’s dead Sagishi’s dead._

The image keeps hitting him. It’s not going away. Every time he looks back at the screen, the body is still there, motionless, festering, waxy skin seeming greyer by the minute. Every time he sees it, the panic hits him anew. Over and over and over, like waking up from a nightmare only to discover that it wasn’t a nightmare at all. Lights and sounds and images before him spin together into a suffocating haze of confusion and disbelief, the pain in his forehead pounding out of time with his heartrate. He slams a hand against his eye socket and realises he can barely feel his limbs connected to his body.

‘Mitarai? M-Mitarai, are you…?’

Yukizome’s voice is…somewhere. It sounds distant, as if she’s calling him from across a field.

He has no time to register fully that every branch head in the boardroom is looking at him. His head feels like it’s filling with water. He’s aware of the wetness on his cheeks and how fast and shallow he’s breathing is and then the fact that he suddenly can’t seem to breathe at all. Other branch heads fast surround him

As everything shuts off.

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally chapter 5 of my sagimita prompts fic but i kinda think i'll want to continue this independently so i'm publishing it separately :>  
> et voila, the sad sagimita fic absolutely no one asked for


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